As opposed as Taavetti was to bringing an unaltered Farah into the village, certain tasks had to be done and the boy needed tending. He’d been having more off days than on and Taavetti didn’t trust his daughter to keep him. Rather, he very verbally worried that she might instigate something to elicit a reaction from Farah that might damage him or the property. The man knew his children cared for one another, but there were some days when he wondered if they didn’t make it harder for him simply because he wasn’t one of them.

The young father kept his son within arms reach and Farah was behaving well. To those who were unaccustomed with his moods he might have seemed a perfectly content boy, but Taavetti knew the signs. Farah kept reaching up to the shells that hung around his neck, thumb brushing over the harsher edges and clutching the cord when ‘too many’ people would walk by. He’d never been able to hold eye contact for long, but when approached Farah was able to hold a conversation. He smiled the same way any shy boy would, thanked others when offered gifts and did his best to behave. Today was a ‘good’ day it seemed and Taavetti was thoroughly thankful for that.

With Besaji thrumming around them, the two made their way to the home of Taavetti’s closest friends. They had been at his side in those early days to help with the twins and had remained even after their peculiarities came to light. It was the only other home in the village where Farah felt comfortable; mainly because they didn’t expect anything from him. While he had never been allowed to act like a complete heathen, certain allowances had been made to help him and Farah loved the pair for it. They knew how to calm him in case of a fit without traumatizing the boy further, and never held it against him; at least, not where he could hear.

As he’d grown Farah could see the signs though. The last time he’d lashed out it had been in fear of a creature in his peripheral and accidentally broken a chair. Acting that way when he was young was one thing; now that he was growing into his own as a man it could be dangerous for everyone involved. He’d been told time and time again to try to fight them but he just…He was never going to be as good at it as Faydis.

“Taavetti! Farah!” Meylin greeted them at the door and threw her arms around Taavetti in a warm embrace. For Farah she waited until he initiated the hug and held the boy close. “Reven’s already started, but there’s plenty of work to be done.”

As Besaji was on the sea it came as no surprise that during the cooler months salt fish was prepared. A great haul would be made not only to sell, but to keep for times when the seas were too rough to sail and prepared to last. Reven and Meylin had already started the process days ago by laying as many filets as they could out in the sun to dry, but more fish was ready to be descaled and prepared for the next batch. While Farah knew the process he was discouraged from being near the knives for reasons that didn’t need vocalizing. He could help with the harvest in his own ways, even if the pull of others called in his mind.

Ocean water helped to drown it out, but Reven and Meylin’s home wasn’t on the water like their hut was. It was just far enough away that the noises would get loud sometimes and-

“Farah, dear? Mind helping me with the salt?” Meylin didn’t touch him; she knew not to when his mind was somewhere else, but her gentle voice was enough to pull him back. He reached for the ingredients, sat them on the table between them and the pair started their work. While Reven and Taavetti guffawed over old teenage romps, Meylin did her best to keep Farah’s ‘innocent ears’ pure.

It’s what he liked about being here the best; the normalcy. He wasn’t reminded of what he’d done, what he could be doing, what he might do….Even if he knew they were watching every move he made Farah could pretend. Right at this moment he was a normal teenager helping with the Autumn’s harvest and preparation for the Winter. And maybe that would be enough for everyone to see he wasn’t a monster.

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